The stylistic deserts of the film cannot be denied. It keeps its own style up all the way, reminding of the extreme stylism of directors like Carl Th. Dreyer. The cinematography is breathtakingly beautiful all through, and on top of all this it's a true story. The poets of the romantic era lived all in the shadow of Goethe, and Goethe himself did not like Kleist for his dismal and almost depressive morbidity. From the beginning to the end of the film Kleist is preoccupied with his desire for death by suicide and is desperately looking for a partner with the same anguish of his mind and to share death with him. He finally thinks he finds her in a young married lady who has nervous attacks and is convinced she will die soon. She will rather die by his hand than bedridden and sick to death. The film is a kind of ultimate description of supreme egoism, and Henriette, Kleist's partner, observes his exaggerated egoism herself and reacts against it, but still she follows him although she has a lovely daughter and loving husband, while Kleist doesn't give a damn about the lives he possibly ruins. Goethe's early suicidal novel of the miserable Werther caused an epidemic of suicides all over Europe, and this appears to have remained a hangover for five decades. The longing for death is nothing new but remains a perpetual subject of actuality, especially for creative artists, and the film is an interesting study in this. The only music of the film is quiet romances by Mozart and Beethoven, played by amateurs, which adds charm to the film, the only light relief of it being a ballroom scene in Berlin. The film is watchable and enjoyable for its cinematography but hardly a film you would long for to see again.
